


Work It, Baby

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: I failed, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, crossdress akira, he's smokin' and he knows it, i tried to give it serious title, let akira say fuck i guess, let ryuji say fuck, thx for this one atlus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: After finishing school and returning to Tokyo, Akira finds himself struggling with finding jobs that both keep him invested and yield enough income for his needs. When Lala makes him a rather foreign offer, he's not sure what to think of it, but eventually enjoys himself surprisingly well.That is, before an entirely oblivious Ryuji asks to join in.





	Work It, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I BLAME ATLUS FOR EVERYTHING.  
> Look, giving me sexy-af-crossdress Akira simply wasn't _fair_ , so here's the fic no one's been waiting for but probably already expected me to write _siiiiiiiiiiiigh_.  
>  No idea yet about how long this is going to be, and the rating might go up, too.

“It's not _that_ bad of a deal, don't worry.”

There probably isn't a worse thing in the world  Akira could've said to his talking, heavily worried cat at this point, but there was also nothing better coming to mind.  Truth be told, he still couldn't entirely swear on the offer being genuine – maybe he'd been made fun of and was now going to embarrass himself greatly? But he chose to hope that it wasn't that.

Less than an hour later, he found himself in Shinjuku, right on his way to  _Crossroads_ . He'd been to the place countless times before,  either to spend some time with Ohya, or to help Lala out and gather some information on possible Mementos targets. This time was…different, to say the least.

Ever since he'd returned to Tokyo, things had changed immensely. While he'd managed to get out of his parents' care – disregarding the fact that  _care_ was a humiliating term for how they'd been treating him ever since the false criminal record, even after it'd been lifted – it meant that he was now somehow on his own.

Sure, there were his friends. Everyone was as supportive as ever, even  now that they weren't mostly attending the same place anymore. Sojiro had basically  _forced_ him to move back in, this time for real and not the attic, Futaba still looked at Akira a bit as if she were seeing a ghost whenever she realized that he was  _really_ there and he was  _really_ staying.

But truth be told, Tokyo wasn't cheap, life  in general  wasn't cheap, and Akira was the last person who'd want to be a burden to anyone, so it had been natural for him to return to his habit of taking more part-time jobs than a single person should – however, there was one problem:  Most of them didn't earn him very much, and to be entirely blunt, they were indescribably boring. He'd returned to the beef bowl shop – too much stress and responsibility for the little money – the flower shop – kind of alright, but not in the long run – or the convenience store – which he'd keep up, but it wasn't a thing for everyday.

Then, he'd contacted Lala again, and she'd made him the offer to work at Crossroads again, with a few certain…well, adjustments to himself. He had a hard time keeping a straight face thinking about it – but at least he didn't have to get ready before getting to the bar; according to Lala, it was  _all there_ , although Akira couldn't swear on that making it much better.

“ _It's nothing I would offer a regular teenager, hon, but you seem so invested in this bar…”_

Burying his hands in his pockets, he left his room, catching both Sojiro and Futaba in the living room watching some action movie. He couldn't help fishing his phone from his pocket and taking a picture, because really, seeing them like that never failed to make him happy and just a bit proud.

“I'll be out,” he said then, causing them both to turn around to him.

“This late? You're not getting in trouble, are you?”

He honestly appreciated the light tone in Sojiro's voice and smiled in return, shrugging and tilting his head. It was like bickering with the parent Akira never felt he'd had, and he enjoyed it, but still clarified when he turned to leave.

“It's a bar I went to frequently last year. I'll be back early morning. The people know me, it's all good.”

From across the hallway, he'd swear he heard Morgana cuss him out for being a liar, but he didn't look back.

 

\----- -----

 

Luckily, Lala hadn't changed a bit in all the time Akira hadn't seen her, and he appreciated it greatly. Talking to her was like writing his problems in a diary, because she never judged, just let him vent. Eventually, it always helped him get to a solution, much like right now.

“Dear, you should not feel so much like a burden to your foster parent. Are you sure he minds?”

“No, not at all.”

They were sitting in the back for the bar had yet to open, and it was as carefree as always.

“He never says he does, but things were rough before already. Now there's also Futaba's education that isn't exactly cheap…I just want to help out efficiently.”

“Whatever you say, hon. Just remember, this isn't a commitment – if you feel uncomfortable, you can always re-decide.”

He nodded shortly and chuckled at the wink he received before Lala got up and waved him over to the dressing room further in the back. Akira wasn't exactly sure what he'd expected, but he was greeted by things far beyond his imagination, for there was _everything_.

Now, he'd already known there were other people working here depending on the day and time, but he'd never been _around_ to meet them or see the costumes _they_ wore. He'd seen Lala's Yukata, and he honestly found it quite alright, but this back here was a whole new world.

“Is this…”

He picked up a pink, frilled garter belt, and if he weren't as collected of a person as he was, he'd probably turn a faint shade of red now – but he kept it together, blinked a few times and set the thing back on the clothes rail, feeling weirdly tingly all out of sudden.

“Oh, love, are you sure you're in for this?”

Was it weird that the teasing yet almost maternal way Lala talked to him boosted his confidence in the deal? Maybe it was because he'd feel like he'd lose an important bet if he gave in now, before even getting started. Not to mention the fact that the sight of all these foreign kinds of clothes had him way more interested than honestly repulsed.

“Do I look like someone who'd back down?” he asked cockily, allowing himself to smile smugly while burying his hands in his pockets and returned to inspecting the clothes.

…Either way, he couldn't deny that many of the things he saw were far away from what he'd ever imagined himself in, and he was definitely not even going to give all the cat ears a thorough look. But there were some quite interesting items there for sure. Skirts, dresses, tummy shirts, and of course the actual _costumes_ currently draped over mannequins, like the stewardess-one or-

Oh.

_Oh fuck._

He'd kept it together for long enough, but now he'd definitely reached his limit. Lala's amused chuckle was more than enough proof of how he  _was_ indeed turning red now, but Akira couldn't care less. What he was facing topped everything off in ways he couldn't even begin to put into words.

It started off with an innocent enough looking white blouse and a black tie – so far so good. The black leather jacket was still modest, even though the huge studded belt in its center already gave the thing a certain mood. The skirt was more like a long kerchief, most likely so it showed most of the tights-covered legs. At this point, the long heels, glove-gauntlets as well as the long black wig and the officer hat were but the icing on a very sugary cake. 

He honestly wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about this thing, or why it even kept him staring for so long, but it was when Lala supportively put a hand on his shoulder, most likely as a heads-up to keep looking for something he'd prefer, that Akira found himself swallow and say:

“I'll rock this.”

There'd be time for regrets afterwards.

 

\----- -----

 

What Akira had expected was to look like a clown, for the clothes to either be too small or too large on him, but when he looked down on himself after a stressful fifteen minutes of trying to figure out how to put on tights, he was rather positively surprised. Everything fit – maybe it was the  _slightest_ bit small, which, according to Lala, only gave away more of his  _surprisingly muscly_ thighs. If Akira knew a thing, it was that he wasn't going to  _run_ anywhere in this, but he honestly didn't plan to right now.

“Oh honey, I know you're old enough now, but letting you wear this does make me feel like a sinner.”

There wasn't the slightest hint of regret in Lala's voice, and Akira forced himself to grin at that. He found himself guided over to a chair in front of a mirror, and let her take care of the wig for him, because he  _really_ didn't have  _any_ idea on how to put that on.

“You look much more comfortable in this than I expected you to.”

“I was surprised, for it's so different from what I thought I'd find. This is a bar, after all, and much less a club.”

Although to be fair, he'd hardly been to Crossroads in the middle of the night like he would today. Usually, it'd been more of a few-hours shift before he'd head home to sleep, but now that he didn't have school attendance to worry about, it wasn't a problem to stay up late.

“Well, it is still Shinjuku, and people like to enjoy themselves freely here. Remember how I said you'd earn extra in a nice outfit? It'll be tons, honey.”

He wasn't entirely sure if he liked that or not. Sure, it was the main reason he'd accepted the offer –  other than the fact that working here was surprisingly carefree most of the time either way – but he'd lie if he said that he wasn't entirely confident in the idea of watching him like this.

“Is the cap mandatory?” he asked lazily while Lala put it onto his perfect wig. It wasn't ugly or anything, but he felt like he was overdoing it just a slight bit like that, especially considering that his face didn't fit the whole ordeal in his own eyes.

“Oh, definitely. Don't worry, you'll get used to it.”

When he found his face covered in make-up, lips a bright, strong red, his eyes coated in smoky gray and his fingernails painted a glossy black, he figured that he just as well might.

“Aren't you wonderful?”

“Mh. As long as I don't speak, I suppose.”

“You know; for many, that makes it even better.”

He didn't understand that comment, and when Lala winked at him with a suggestive smile, he decided that he didn't want to.

\----- -----

Things turned out a little differently than Akira had expected. Obviously, he wasn't blind – and he was poised enough to see that he looked quite nice in this tight, leathery deception of a police officer. However, that didn't change his uncertain feelings about the way the people he talked to looked at him, lips twitching, gaze wandering down his figure, hands reaching out a little too often to be casually.

No one ever tried anything impure, so Akira didn't feel the need to worry about it too much; still, the feeling of being undressed by someone's eyes was entirely foreign to him – at least he'd never  _noticed_ anyone do that before –  and he found himself struggling with keeping up his act, as much so that when they finally closed the bar down seemingly countless hours later, he let his whole upper body drop on the counter and closed his eyes in relief.

“Someone looks exhausted there, mh?”

Of course this had to be funny to Lala, right?

“Absolutely beat. You were right, though. I think the amount of tips I got can almost be referred to as _dirty_.”

She laughed, and he found himself able to join in. It was an experience he'd never thought he would make one day, but he didn't exactly regret any of it.

“It's easier once you get used to drinking along. You're allowed to, now, so don't refrain. As long as you're not getting wasted, it lifts the spirits. You should try it next time.”

_Next time._

Well, he definitely wasn't  _not_ interested in that. Other than tending the bar and customers, he'd had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrors behind the lines up glasses on the shelves, and he couldn't deny being partially invested in what he'd been seeing – really, maybe he should have noticed in all these times he'd been to Crossroads before, the dozens of crossdressing customers he'd seen while talking to Ohya, but somehow, this whole thing was temptingly interesting to him.

“I'll think about it,” he offered without any valuation to it, returning to cleaning up before they both headed to the back again. As worthwhile as this had been, parts of him couldn't wait to get out of this attire and home to sleep. Before he could, though, he saw his phone blinking where he'd left it on the table, and picked it up casually to see who could've texted him in the night.

Unsurprisingly, it was Ryuji.

Surprisingly,  it made Akira less happy than he'd expected.

 

_**From: Sakamoto Ryuji** _

_22:20: Oi, you still up?_

_23:46: Wait, really?_

_23:46: I asked Futaba 'cause it's unlike ya to not reply, whatever the time._

_23:47: Bar?? You at that Crossroads place?_

_23:47: WITHOUT ME???_

_23:48: Dude._

_23:48: Bro._

_23:48: I trusted you. With my life an' all that shit. 'N you betrayed me…_

_23:49: Jk! Tho next time, u gotta take me with ya, we clear?_

 

He stared at the screen unmovingly for at least a good minute after he'd finished reading, promising himself he would never again make the mistake of not telling Futaba to keep something she knew to herself. Obviously, he couldn't blame her, for he had specifically tried to make his bar-visit sound innocent, so why wouldn't she have told Ryuji, and yet-

_Shit._

In his trance, Akira was an inch short of asking Lala if it was weird that he imagined his best friend seeing him like this, and that he honestly wanted to know what Ryuji would _think_ about him. All things considered, every encounter they'd ever had with the rather extravagant kind of people in Shinjuku, Akira wasn't too confident about it. Sometimes, Ryuji was a bit simple about things, and more often than not, it was a thing Akira liked about him immensely. But he doubted he'd be able to deal with being faced with disgust, and it was something he couldn't rule out.

So, what was he supposed to say? If he said he actually worked here, he knew it wouldn't stop Ryuji an inch from coming – if anything, it would _encourage_ him to show up. But if he denied being here, he'd need a very good explanation for where he'd been all night, and he doubted he could keep a lie up for too long.

“Trouble, kid?”

He shook his head before burying it in his free hand.

“Just been confronted by the question of what it'd be like if someone close to me knew I'm doing this.”

“Not good?”

He shook his head again.

“Horrible. And the worst part is…”

Looking back up, he frowned at the own ridiculous, unrealistic thoughts in his mind. Somewhere between the fifteenth and thirtieth shot of booze he'd given out, he'd forgotten how to operate properly, and the longing looks on him had let his thoughts wander further into filthy territory than he'd ever want to admit.

“I'm unbelievably tempted to prove them otherwise.”

And other than anything he'd expected, Lala laughed, then smiled at him, which didn't help at all. Was that supposed to be approval? If anything, what Akira needed was _objection_ , someone to put him in his place and tell him he was making all the wrong choices, but-

The idea of having his best friend sit in front of him for hours of the night, not even knowing it was him, giving him the same interested, thirsty, _naughty_ looks he'd been getting all night, getting touchy, moving closer, drunk and out of his _clear mind-_

Bad thought.

_Very_ bad thought.

“I think I'd like to do this again. How about next week?”

Lala gave him a knowing look  and winked.

“I can't wait for it, honey.”


End file.
